by L. A. Fiore
Last night when I heard her scream, it wasn’t a sound I would ever forget. How I knew it was her, I didn’t even want to think about. The idea that she could have been on the other end of that blade made me feel homicidal; the outlet for that rage aimed at a ghost from my past. Isaac.
Six years ago I died. Took six bullets. The docs somehow managed to bring me back and save my sorry ass. After I recuperated I spent the next few years hunting down that fucker. He left a trail in his wake, carving up bodies for no other reason than to carve up bodies. Had he been the one to kill that man, he would have taken his time. So that left the question, who the fuck killed the homeless man and why?
She missed me. Those words should not have rocked me like they did, but then she had gotten under my skin from the very first moment I saw her standing at that fruit stand. I wasn’t Kace anymore. My life experiences had killed him and yet around her, I felt some of what he had felt. We needed to do a little recon to figure out what that shit last night was all about and I had some unfinished business with a feisty redhead.
I strolled into the hotel to find Miss Blakeley’s friend manning the front desk. The woman needed to be put over someone’s knee, repeatedly. I wasn’t looking for the job, but I knew a few of my crew that would happily step up. The last time I had seen her she had all but dropped to her knees. Today, she looked at me like I was something drudged up from the sewer.
She also didn’t greet me. She always greeted me, usually with a batting of her lashes or a slow lick of her bottom lip.
“Miss Doyle. I would like to check messages.”
She thrust the papers into my hand with enough force my arm jerked back a bit.
Normally, she left the impression she would spread her legs for me if I bent my finger. Today it looked as if she wanted to give me the finger.
I dismissed her from my thoughts and looked through the messages. I had hoped there would be one from Willow after the other night, but with the events of last night she had other things on her mind. It was time to bring her focus back on me. She wanted me; she couldn’t hide that. The woman was passionate. I knew firsthand the sensual energy she had inside her. I couldn’t wait to unleash it again.
“You are wasting my fucking talents,” Snake hissed over the line. He was a world-class tracker, could hunt down someone faster than a fucking bloodhound, so the fact that he was using his skills on some woman he couldn’t even find enjoyment in was making his already less than sunny disposition more sour.
“Next time we’re in Mexico, I’ll pick up your tab at Fiona’s.” Snake’s whorehouse of preference.
“It will cost you big. She is at the wharf, but she’s acting funny.”
“How so?”
“Looking around, like she’s on edge.”
The dark emotion that slid down my spine was not one I was familiar with. “Is she being followed?”
“Not by anyone but me and there ain’t no way she knows I’m there. After last night, she’s smart to be on edge.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“I heard on the coast guard scanner earlier they found parts of another yacht. This one had gone missing two years ago. It was out of Turks Island.”
Lust took a backseat. There had been a wave of yachts going missing in the Caribbean over the past few years and this phenomena was a problem because coast guard units were increasing in the areas where we hunted which made hunting harder. Odder still, was that when the coast guard searched the areas where the yachts were last seen they found nothing. And when they did find them years later they were miles and miles off course.
“We should get Miguel on it. Maybe he’ll see something in the pattern that we’re missing.” Miguel was the one to teach Snake everything he knew. Just then I saw her, tucked in a crowd, but she wasn’t hard to spot because of her hair. She had it piled on the top of her head, but one long curly strand had escaped its confines and looked like a lick of fire down her bare back.
“I’ve got her,” I told Snake.
“I’m going to hunt something to eat then grab lunch.”
I slid my phone in my pocket but my eyes were on Willow’s ass in those white shorts. Talk about getting something to eat. The things I would like to do with that ass. And that bubble gum pink halter top. She wasn’t wearing a bra. I couldn’t help but think of the magnificence of her tits. It would be so easy to slip my hand under that top, to toy with her nipples before pulling one out to taste. My dick swelled at the thought. Yeah, before the day was over I would be hearing Willow moan. The day was looking up.
She had stopped, her hand covering her eyes as she watched the couple parasailing; likely thinking of our ride. I thought of it, specifically having her sweet body pressed to mine. Someone walked into her and her attention shifted to the one that had almost knocked her over, then slid to me. Our eyes connected, my lips already forming the grin I knew she loved, but instead of the slight flush of attraction that rose on her cheeks, she looked away. For a second, I thought she was playing coy, and fuck me, but that turned me on. And it was because my blood had gone south that it took a minute for me to realize she wasn’t playing coy, she was running away from me. What the fuck?
The absurdity of the situation was not lost on me. I was chasing down a woman; I had never chased down a woman in my life. And this woman, the other night I could have fucked her any damn way I wanted. I had fucked her; spent the whole night fucking her eight years ago, and now she was dodging me like I had the plague. She got caught behind a group of tourists so I moved around them to cut her off.
“Miss Blakeley.” It took effort to form the words in the cultured voice of Noah.
I could have sworn she muttered shit before she turned to me and smiled. “Noah. Hello.”
Noah not Kace. I had a feeling that distinction from her was significant.
“How are you? Last night must have been a shock.”
“I’m okay, considering.”
She wouldn’t look at me. She looked at my shoulder, my cheek, my lips, she even checked out my dick, but she wouldn’t look me in the eyes.
“Is something wrong?”
Unease shifted to determination as those green eyes locked on mine. “Are you Kace?”
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t believe me. “No?”
“No.”
She then took a step back and moved her eyes slowly down my body. “I suppose you’re not him. He was hotter.”
It was my eyes that narrowed. I was him and still those words from her were like a sucker punch to the gut. I couldn’t really say how it felt to be compared to myself and come up short. I was fucking pissed even though the whole concept was ridiculous.
She cocked her hip. “After the other day I think of him when I’m with you.” She lowered her lashes then looked up at me through them. “I can’t help but compare you and…well, I’m sad to say you come up short.”
It took effort not to smile. She was feisty, just like I remembered. It was then I noticed the chain around her neck. I reached for it and knew what I would find, the diamond Jolly Roger I had sent her.
“It’s from him. In deference to you the night we went out I took it off, but I usually never take it off.”
My gaze moved up to her face. She studied me, waiting. I didn’t give an inch. The less she knew the better. Anger rolled off her. “He was magnificent. So virile.” She leaned closer. “Though I will say…” She moved so close that her natural scent surrounded me. My cock grew hard. “His dick had a kink in it, couldn’t keep that baby straight. He got an A for effort though and boy did he have stamina. He could go all night long.”
The urge to laugh was strong. “With a kink in his dick?”
She ran her tongue along her upper lip. “You can’t have it all.” Her gaze moved down to my dick and lingered before sliding back up to my face. “It’s a shame I’ll never know if you’re the exception…the whole package.” She bit her lip. “If you know what I mean.”
&nb
sp; She was fucking magnificent. It was so tempting to call her bluff, put her over my knee and give her a sound spanking then fuck her senseless. Instead, I took a step back. I wasn’t Kace. Not anymore and forming an attachment to her, the man I was now, not fucking smart. I wanted her though and I’d have her, but she would have to come to me.
“You ever feel like slumming, you know where to find me.”
Those green eyes flashed hot as temper burned behind them. I walked away before I threw caution to the wind and tossed her over my shoulder like a caveman. I was feeling primal enough in that minute to behave like one.
WILLOW
The waves crashed against the beach, the aquamarine water foaming to white before being pulled back into the whole. The sand was darker where the water receded; birds chased the waterline for the little fish that rode in with the waves. Warren had liked it here. He hadn’t come to the cottage often, but the few times I had convinced him to join me for dinner on the beach; his face when looking at the ocean had been so serene. The local news earlier said the cops were still investigating, which meant they didn’t have a clue who had hurt Warren and why. He had been a good man and he didn’t have anything anyone would want, so why did someone kill him? It made me terribly sad and really fucking pissed. Even though I emphatically denied it to Zoe, the timing of Warren’s death and Noah’s arrival couldn’t be overlooked. But then Noah had been right there; not very criminally minded to frequent a strip club right down the street from where you dropped the body you had just killed. He had even lingered when the cops arrived, his whole crew did. I just didn’t believe he had anything to do with it.
Our conversation from earlier was never far from my thoughts. I was making a point and he knew I was making a point, but he was here and I didn’t want to lose any more time. We had lost enough. I called the resort.
“I’d like to speak with Noah in room 354.”
“Who may I say is calling?”
“Willow.”
There was a pause before his deep voice came over the line. “Willow.” I liked how my name rolled off his tongue, sensually. “I’m hoping that you calling me means you want to see me again.”
“Yes.”
His growl of approval caused a rush of heat to surge through my body. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“I’ll be ready.”
“See you tonight, Willow.”
“Noah?”
“Yeah, sweetheart.”
It wasn’t beautiful, what he had called me on Cancun, but it was just as good. “I know you’re Kace, but I don’t know why you won’t admit it.”
He had no reply.
I was frustrated by his stubbornness, but he was here. Whatever his reason, he was here with me. So I added, “I’m sorry I wasted a day.”
“Day’s not over yet. See you tonight.”
As soon as I hung up, I showered, shaved and went through all the other female rituals really hoping the effort wasn’t wasted.
He arrived exactly at seven, dressed in black trousers and a charcoal gray shirt; the outline of his shoulders and arms through the cotton was exquisite. His eyes moved down my body and goosebumps broke out on my skin.
“You look beautiful.” I wasn’t sure who was more surprised by his comment because he honestly looked surprised that he had said it. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” I reached for my purse before following him out and locking up.
“Where are we going?” I asked as he held the car door for me before he folded himself behind the wheel.
“One of the other resorts has an incredible restaurant. I thought I’d feed you first.”
First? What was second? I hoped he was second. “Sounds good, I’m hungry.”
More enthusiasm than the question called for but we were on different pages, my pages were about him naked and in me.
“Your face is very expressive.” His voice pitched deeper and with how he said that he knew exactly what I was thinking.
I confirmed it when I said, “I was thinking about you naked.” He was Kace, I knew he was Kace, so I was very candid.
His cool exterior wavered for just a second as his eyes sliced to me. There was lust and surprise looking back when he said, “I’m glad I’m not the only one.”
I didn’t reply since I was already imagining the latter part of the evening, which hopefully would be a repeat of the best sexual encounter of my life.
We reached the hotel, my lustful thoughts taking a back seat to the view. I had never been here and boy was I missing out. “What a place.”
“The restaurant is this way.”
The scents coming from the kitchen made my stomach growl.
Touching my elbow, he led me into the restaurant. No one had ever touched me in that way, not even him eight years ago. It was like he needed to touch me even though it wasn’t really necessary. I liked it, a lot.
They were expecting us; a quiet table with a view of the ocean was waiting. Once seated, wine was poured while we studied the menus.
After our orders were taken, Noah’s focus shifted to me. “I’m glad you called, but I was coming for you regardless.”
My body tingled. “You were?”
“Yes.”
“What would you have done if I didn’t want to join you?”
“I can be very persuasive.”
I didn’t doubt that for a second.
“How did you know Warren? From the looks of him he was homeless.”
“He used to work on Wall Street, came here on forced vacation and had a breakdown. After his breakdown he stayed. He preferred the simplicity of the streets. We shared breakfast every morning. I can’t believe someone would do that to him. He was harmless and sweet.”
“Do the cops have any leads?”
“No. We’ve never had anything so gruesome happen here before. I think our police department is feeling a little out of their depths. And I don’t blame them. Whoever did that was a monster.”
“You have to be wondering about my timing...I’m new here too.”
“The thought occurred to me. Do I think you’re capable of doing that? Yes, but to someone like Warren, no.”
He had a thought on that but kept it to himself. Curious if he would continue the charade, I asked, “You mentioned you were in acquisitions. What exactly does that mean?”
He studied me for a minute before he leaned a bit closer. “Full disclosure. I’m not in acquisitions, but you already know that.”
I swear my heart pounded so hard he had to have heard it.
He grinned, even looked a little self-deprecating. “Once upon a time someone called me a pirate.”
Tears hit my eyes and I bit back a sob. “You are Kace.”
“Yes.”
I was in shock hearing him confirm what I already knew, so I didn’t ask the countless questions I had and instead simply asked, “What should I call you, Noah or Kace?”
“Noah.”
“Where did Kace come from?”
“Kace Noah Mayes.”
“Ah.” I looked down and wiped at my eyes as I worked to speak past the lump in my throat. “Why the act?”
“I’ll explain later. This night is a long time in the making. I intend to fully enjoy it.”
Feeling overwhelmed, I reached for my glass of wine and took a healthy drink. He watched me.
“Your eyes were blue.”
“Colored contacts.”
“The tattoo is new.”
It was the slightest reaction, but he definitely had one.
“You speak differently too. Are you still hunting the seas?”
“Yes.”
“It’s been eight years, you must be good at what you do. I wouldn’t have thought pirates had so long a life expectancy.”
He flinched, subtle but undeniable before he said, “We choose our marks wisely, people that have something to lose or something to hide.”
“Meaning?”
“The man three tables over.”
; I glanced over at the man sitting with a woman whose adoration was clear to see, but he kept checking his watch. His expression was one of boredom. “I’m guessing it’s her birthday or their anniversary—mandatory dinner with his wife—but he can’t wait to get back to his mistress.” He leaned closer. “The watch he is wearing costs about ten thousand dollars, his suit about the same. Her dress, off the rack, her watch a Timex, but I’d bet money his mistress dresses in designer. They have at least one kid, but a man like that has the ego the size of a fucking building, so he probably knocked his wife up multiple times to prove he is virile.”
“How do you know they have a child?”
“She has a little spit up on her shoulder.”
Glancing over, he was right.
“How did you see that?”
“It’s what I do. He would be a mark. Money to blow, and a douche to boot.”
“So you’re kind of like a modern day Robin Hood.”
“No, he took from the rich and gave to the poor. I keep it.”
He spoke so cavalierly about stealing, of committing felonies. “Were you in jail?”
“No.”
“Worse than jail?”
“We’ll discuss it later.”
That meant yes. “How does one decide to become a pirate?”
He swirled the liquid around in his glass as if in thought. “Not so much a decision but a necessity. My parents died when I was very young. I had no other family so I was put into the system.”
My heart ached. “How young were you?”
“Just over a year.”
“I’m guessing you weren’t adopted.”
“No and no foster family.”
“How long were you in the group home?”
“I left at fourteen.”
“Left?”
“Group homes are worse than prisons. They foster the worst in people just by the nature of what they are…the unwanted fighting to be seen, to be noticed, to be wanted. I was small for my age so I got my ass kicked a lot and by the time I was fourteen I had had enough.”